Past, Present, Future
by sangriastrange
Summary: Written as a 'tense' challenge - 3 short stories, one in each past, present, and future tense. Harry/Draco, Percy/Oliver and Lavender/Parvati


**Disclaimer: **Characters are not mine. This story is not yours.  
Reveiws are nice.  
  
When Draco laughed it sounded like sobbing and when he cried it felt like mirth. Sometimes Harry didn't know whether he was choking on laughter or tears, and he left Draco in a corner making indistinguishable noises and clenching his muscles until Draco was once again the poised, elegant figure he was used to.   
  
Draco looked wan, and fragile with his arms clasped around his thighs and his face buried in his elbows - shaking, just slightly. It didn't matter that Draco chewed his lips raw, and marred his wrists with crescent moons where his perfect nails had dug, it didn't matter that Draco wanted Harry to wrapped himself around his thin body, and laugh into the crook of his neck, and kiss the tears on his eyelids the ways Blaise used to. It didn't matter because Harry couldn't do.  
  
Harry couldn't stand to see Draco acting any less than perfect, so whenever Draco lost control Harry turned around. He couldn't leave, but he couldn't really stay, and so he memorized every mark, and crack, and flaw on the wall across from Draco's bed, and after that was done he learned the tiny patterns and dropped stitches in Draco's heavy green bedspread.  
  
Draco cried because he knew the Golden Boy was nothing more than tarnished brass, and he laughed because Harry still believed that Draco was polished silver instead of mottled tin.  
  
&.  
  
Oliver always says that he doesn't know Percy, really. He says that they have nothing in common, they never talk, or laugh, or even notice each other, even if they are the only Gryffindor boys in their year. He won't talk about the heated kisses, and rough hands callused by gripping a broomstick too hard, and too long that slip under nearly threadbare robes. He won't talk about how many times he's had to cast a repairing spell over those glasses so often smashed or bent in the mess of hands, and lips, and robes, and skin.  
  
They ignore each other in the halls, never sit together in classes. Ginny finds them, heads bent together over a book in the library, laughing, and hands clasped under the table. She smiles, so rare is it that she sees Percy laugh, but Oliver jumps away guiltily, and Percy coughs nervously, and from then on all their study sessions take place behind locked doors.  
  
If you ask Percy, he says that Oliver is boorish, and rude, and that while skill and agility in athletics is certainly admirable, that they are far too contrasting for their relationship to ever extend beyond common courtesy. This is what he tells Penelope, and she remembers this, and forgets to ask why Percy often doesn't show up when he says he will. If you ask Oliver, he tells you that Percy is boring, and far too focused on academics, and that while these are definitely excellent qualities, that their personalities were entirely opposites on the social scale.  
  
But Oliver can tell you that Percy smells like shampoo, and apples, and dust, and ink, and Percy wonders why no one notices that Oliver smells like earth, and salt, and blood, and lemons.  
  
&.  
  
If Parvati seems too lost in her thoughts, Lavender will always bring her out of it. Perhaps she will kiss her earlobes, or press her lips into her neck, anything to get her attention. Lavender will feel inadequate next to Parvati. It could be that she will realise that Parvati really is quite intelligent, rather than the giggling girl she often pretends and will pretend to be. Or maybe Lavender will just know, without even ever realising that she knows, that Parvati will be something more. One day she'll know that there's something hidden inside of her - the Gryffindor bravery, Hufflepuff loyalty, Slytherin cunning, and Ravenclaw intelligence. Lavender will know that she is nothing compared to Parvati.  
  
Lavender will never really understand Parvati. She will always exude an aura of sad determination, that Lavender feels she will never be able to break through. She will often wish that a mirror could show show the unacknowledged brilliance that shines through Parvati, because Parvati will never recognise her own ability. Lavender won't even mind being the shadow really, because sometimes being a shadow to Parvati will feel better than any whole person could ever feel.  
  
But still, Lavender has to break Parvati away from her thoughts. Sometimes she will seem almost scared that if Parvati realises her excellence that she will leave. And Lavender will never stand for that. Sometimes she'll think that all the leftover genius should be brewed and bottled and kept far out of reach, where it will never frighten her.  
So Lavender will continue to steal those thoughts with bites, and kisses, and Parvati will wonder why Lavender must be so distracting when all she wants to do is think.  



End file.
